


Ordering after Close

by twistedingenue



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Diners, F/M, Smut, smut with feels though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 14:26:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedingenue/pseuds/twistedingenue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Small towns don't offer all that much excitement. The diner's closed up, but Clint's waiting for his way out, and this waitress doesn't really want to kick him out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ordering after Close

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to britt1975/noquirkyurl for the very quick beta. And to someassemblingrequired for rising to the bait when I said, "I need to write some smut, but not sure how to frame it."

"Are you going to order anything else?" Clint looks up from his beat up laptop, quickly minimizing the field report he's trying to file. The waitress -- Darcy! -- her nametag exuberantly reminds him, squats down to table level and snaps her fingers to keep his attention, "I'm just asking ‘cause technically, we closed a half hour ago, and our cook wants to know if he can head out. "

"Shit, I'm sorry, I can wait for my ride elsewhere," he says, going to close his screen and pack up. Extraction should get to the little town where he's been gathering intelligence on a small but surprisingly well funded homegrown militia, posing as a construction consultant. Clint always draws the small town assignments, someone out there believes he's better than most of the educated folks at fitting in. But Darcy puts a hand in to block it from closing.

"Don't you worry," she says, and it's late enough at night that some of her hair has escaped from the loose bun her hair’s piled in, "I've still got cleaning to do. Stay as long as you need, nice to have the company."

"Thanks." he replies earnestly. He doesn't like waiting on some stoop on these assignments. To be fair, while these ones are nice for a break, he's been getting more and more of them since New York, and he's missing that adrenaline surge from more active ops.

There are perks though. He's spent a lot of time in this diner, and a lot of time watching Miss Darcy handle her customers (including a few unscrupulous types with some rather interesting weapons that'll need more involved surveillance), and while she's firm and warm with them, she downright flirts with Clint.

Not with her regulars, not with the passerbys coming through off the interstate, but with him. She's sweet to flirt back to, as well. Too young, but her words are sugar glass. Sharp, but they'll break easily and be sweet on her tongue. She's not beaten down by small living yet either, and this town is filled to the brim with women who have, if he's being any sort of charitable, accepted a life they didn't want to lead.

Darcy's still got hope and promise in her blood.

She also stands up with a stretch and leans forward just enough for a spectacular view. Her uniform, which on the other waitresses is pretty bland and forgettable, wasn't made for a woman like her in mind. It's just a shirtdress, buttons down the front, and deep blue. Darcy has one fewer button done than any other day he's been in here, and it's revealing an awful lot about the natural state of her cleavage.

"Let me know if you want any more coffee." She says while heading back to the kitchen, and he's pretty certain there's some extra movement to her steps. Her voice carries, a smattering of kitchen spanish that he can't make out and some mutual laughter that fades out to the back door closing and locking.

Okay, so Clint's not really focusing on his field report. He's more focusing on how Darcy moves as she cleans the counter and stacks some chairs, on how she doesn't wear anything skin-tight, but he can watch the softness of her curves through the fabric.

He's going to miss this diner. The decor is just excellent.

"What's your name anyways?" She asks, "You pay in cash, and you look like a guy who'd sign his name with a squiggly line."

"Clint," he replies truthfully. He's been going by Clinton here. Just enough of a change and just fancy enough of a name for a consultant.

She drops into the seat across from him in his booth, tucked away in the corner.

"Well, it's real nice to meet you. I'm Darcy, and I really don't want to go home yet." she smiles tightly, "My little sister just had a kid and I cannot stand the crying. And the moment I get home, she begs for a break. And because I'm the good sister, the one with the industrial strength birth control…" and he can't help but laugh with her on the all too familiar small town problem, "I give her a half hour to take a shower, which turns into two hours of her hiding from me. So I'm trying not to go home until she's asleep, and I think conversing will help."

This time, Clint does put away the laptop, partially because Darcy's idea of conversing seems to include her foot sliding against his ankle, and because it just seems polite to do. There's all sorts of possibilities for the next couple of hours while he waits.

"Let's see, could start with the basics, where you from? I know you do construction, saw you coming in with Schneider's boys." she says with a hint of disgust. Clearly, Darcy has good sense, because Schneider's boys are capital T trouble.

"New York, lately. But Iowa born and all over bred. I kinda travelled a lot as a kid." The best way to keep a cover is to keep it as true as possible, while still not being all that specific.

"New York," Darcy brightens, "Man, I wanna go there someday. I got accepted all over. NYU, Culver, couple of other places."

"So why aren't you in school?" Clint asks, even though its probably a sore spot, but he touches her wrist where it's in contact with the table, runs a finger across and circling the bare skin.

"Student aid didn't work out the way it was supposed to and I couldn't afford it anymore after the first semester at Culver." She gives him a little half-smile, "I'm taking classes at the community college, though. I'll get back, just you wait. I'm not going to stay here forever."

"Still, it's nice to have a little bit of fun while you can," Clint drops his voice, lets it rattle low in his register, and watches as a decision rolls across Darcy's face. She sucks in her bottom lip for an all too brief second, and he doesn't take his eyes off of her, "It's a nice town here, shame I'm leaving tonight."

He's not going to leave her with a false impression of where this can go. And she does abruptly let go, stops contact, and that's alright. But she just busses the table real quick, taking his coffee cup away and he thinks, okay, time to go, overstayed the welcome.

But when she walks back to the table, there's another button undone on the dress, and a sheer patch of black lace peeking through. And then she holds out her hand, and instead of standing up, he pulls her down, swinging his legs around on the booth. He pulls her down until she's roughly straddling him, one leg beside his own and the other keeping her balance on the floor.

"Just so you know, I totally wanted to jump your bones two weeks ago. But I thought that would be really forward of me." Darcy mouths against his neck, and she fucking nips at the vulnerable skin.

"I like forward, forward is a very good look on women." Clint responds and kisses her, and means it to be soft; Darcy has different plans, and her hot breath encourages him every time she pulls away a fraction of an inch to catch her breath.

Clint slips his hands underneath the well-worn fabric of her dress and up her thighs. Like he thought they would be, muscled but soft, evidence of long walks home and a job on her feet, and they grow hotter when he drifts his fingers towards the insides of her thighs. Darcy lifts herself up slightly so that he can get a better angle, while quickly unbuttoning her dress down to her waist.

Clint just wants to look, and see how the good lord made her, and while his fingers tease at her panties, he pulls back and gives a good leer. "Fuck, girl," he drops his head and licks at a lace-covered breast, "Fucking gorgeous. Tell you not to hide these, but I think they might be too good for the crowd around here."

"You got that right," Darcy laughs, "You are distressingly clothed," she wraps her hands around his biceps under his t-shirt, "And I really wanted to see what you looked like too." She glances up, checking to make sure the blinds are down and closed, leaning up and over to flick them down in the booth's window, just to be sure.

When she stretches, he gets the grand expanse of her cleavage in his face, and he's enjoying the groans from his light teasing, feeling the change in the fabric of her underwear. And he's not sure which is better until she's back and kissing him, reckless and needy. The answer is everything, everything is better and she's taking off his shirt, then slips out of the sleeves of her dress.

"Do you," he grits into her ear, "want me to keep teasing you, get you off right here in my lap or…" he moves aside the now-wet fabric of her panties, circles her clit with a finger, then slides it down until he's just at her entrance, and pulses. Darcy squirms and shudders, "do you want me to get right to where this is going?"

"If you are trying to dance your way around the words, 'Darcy, please can I fuck you?' the answer is, oh yes please. That was the magic word and everything." Somehow, her dress has pockets, and she pulls out a condom from one, setting it on the table, and doesn't even look shifty about how she's probably been carrying that all day.

It's been a long time since someone's set their sights on him and won.

"Are you trying to put words in my mouth?" he says into her neck and then stands her up, grabbing hold of her wrists with a single hand and holding them behind her back, turning her around and against the table before letting her hands go.

"Oh no, never. Why would I ever want to do that. I want to do other things with your mouth." Darcy shimmies, her fingers taking her dress in hand to lift it up enough before dropping her underwear down and stepping out of them. She picks the scrap of fabric up with her foot and stuffs them into one of the dress’s pockets, all neat and tidy.

It doesn't take much for her to get on the table, rising on the balls of her feet and resettling herself back down, "Pants," she says so brightly, and that is the best thing ever, made even better that she's pulling him in by the belt loops and palms his dick through his jeans.

"Yes, ma'am," he responds, pressing in for a kiss, and lingers, running fingers into her hair. It would be too intimate for him usually, but she's just fun, and it comes off playful when he tugs his fingers through, taking down her bun and letting the messy waves fall, and keeps a lock wrapped in between two fingers and uses it to trace a lopsided pattern on her chest. With his other hand, Clint unbuttons, unzips and pushes the last of his clothes down.

It's Darcy, however, that looks smug when she looks him over, terribly erotic with half of her clothes still on and her eyes half-lidded, like she's picked a good one to tussle with tonight. Again, she pulls at him, grabbing his ass, and the skin to skin contact is just, well it's incredible, and only improves when she wraps a sure and steady hand around his cock, jerking him off slowly. "Fuck," he exhales, and the girl does wonders but this is not how he wants to get off tonight.

There's no awkward fumbling here, and Darcy gets that, she's just giving him a taste of what she's got to give, "Remember what I said about my little sister?" she's performed some metric of magic to get the condom open and sliding it over his length without seemingly missing a beat, "I may do a few foolish things," like fucking at work, goes unsaid, "but I am not stupid."

"Hey, this isn't foolish at all." Clint's not always the best assessor of his ideas, but he doesn't see how this one is wrong at all. They don't want anything other than having a good time and both perfectly willing to see the other through. This is a fantastic idea. Darcy spreads her legs out in response, dangling over the edge as she sits back on her elbows and watches as Clint presses into her.

She laughs too. Clint can't remember the last time when fucking was so damn light and not fueled by adrenaline or barely staved off need. Darcy grins and groans through every thrust, wraps her legs up over his shoulders and against his back, her dress folded up and messed up to her waist. Her sleeves hang off her back, and he runs his hands over the expanse of her body, memorizing by touch. He wants to remember this, something fun and not guilty. Something good.

"Move your hand," Darcy says, grabbing hold of his and drawing it down to her clit. He's keeping a steady pace, and she keeps watching where they join and breathing in time, swearing and laughing. When he starts circling and playing, she rolls her head back and drops her shoulders down to the table. "God, just, yes, let it go, Clint…." her voices softens to a dream-like pitch, even as her breath goes shallow and the noises….

Well the noises she makes are all part of the appeal. He slams into her, hard and rough, grabbing at her hip and rubbing two fingers alongside her clit. Her legs tighten and shake around him, almost completely seizing up straight when she comes quickly and silently around him, her whole body is catching up to the sensation all at once.

Clint just fucking loses it, right there. There's nothing subtle about his orgasm, just sheer blinding, momentary joy that never lasts nearly long enough. His eyes closed somewhere in there, and when he opens them, it's still a little hazy, but Darcy still has that grin on her face.

"Oh god, that really wasn't foolish at all, handsome." she says, "Anytime you come into town, you should just stop in and throw me over your shoulder."

He steps back, easing her legs back down and helping her sit back up before taking off and tying off the condom. "Sweetheart, if you track me down anywhere, I'd want to do that in a heartbeat." It's not even a lie. Not even a little bit.


End file.
